


The Departed

by Anoriell



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:51:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anoriell/pseuds/Anoriell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Peredhel’s musings vis-à-vis an irremediable calamity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Departed

**Author's Note:**

> Written over six years ago (2006-03-10), back in my early LJ days, for the '50passages challenge'. Prompt/Passage = The dark water boiled, and there was a hideous stench.
> 
> This fic is a testimonial to my father’s courage through the hardships of my mother’s sickness. He accompanied her to the very end with unabated love and abounding elven grace. Dad, you are my unsung hero. 
> 
> At the time, drabbles and very short fics were my forte and ever a joy to create.
> 
> Just trying to archive everything here, on AO3.

_Imladris, Halls of Healing_

_Year 2510, Third Age_

The dark water boiled, and there was a hideous stench.

Imladris’ faithful Master sat in the solitary dimness of the infirmary, vacant eyes fixed on the flame’s hypnotizing dance as it wavered under the crucible. Yet another late night spend in the company of dispiriting ruminations and wafting odours. Revolting odours. But his only consolation. He had done all in his power … with little success. So he brewed sleeping draughts, while contemplating his predicament. Meanwhile, the chamber’s confining obscurity seemed to be slowly closing in on him, suffocating him, as was his world.

_In her eyes, the sun rises no more._

_The encroaching darkness of an invisible storm enshrouds her mind and douses her spirit's flame. Her body restored to its erstwhile state of wellness, she yet lingers in the throes of withering anguish. Blinded by the perpetual struggle of her inner torment and ever a prisoner to the shame-wrought shackles of self-loathing, she sees not our beloved children as they sit by her side, offering both love and support, despite their own abysmal grief._

_Oh Celebrian!_

_How I weep for what they’ve done to her … for what I now see before me; naught but a shadow of her former self, her inner light having dimmed considerably. No blunt blade’s torturous path through flesh and sinew could have left me with a more painful wound, nor a deeper scar, than this tragedy. Ofttimes I wonder if a mortal blow and an honorary burial would’ve been preferable to a formal leave-taking and eternal unrest. Though Mandos’ Halls would not be any more forgiving to a Firstborn; the mind remains unaltered upon passing through the Gates. Perhaps, in this, the Children of the Sun are more fortunate. Better the sleep of the dead than unending awareness of all that was lost … or could have been._

_Within a fortnight we shall travel to Mithlond, wherefrom she sails West –a part of me borne with her. ‘Tis a fearsome thing, to face eternity without your bonded soul. Still, her departure will be a deliverance. For us all. Most especially her. Only, missed will she be._

In her eyes, the sun has set forever more.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer (because I am old school that way): Tolkien is the consummate artist and Middle Earth is his chef d’oeuvre. I hold his work in highest regard and as such would not presume to unlawfully use his literary creations for profit. I am only borrowing from his imagination … for the pleasure of expounding on his already established genius.


End file.
